


Let's Make Love

by PansexualMoose



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Reader Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2018-05-19 14:29:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5970349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PansexualMoose/pseuds/PansexualMoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It all started after a djinn showed you what life would have been like....if......</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let's Make Love

**Author's Note:**

> You can thank "Let's Make Love" by Faith Hill and Tim McGraw for this. It was originally written for ComeAlongPond14 or Tipsy-The-Minx is her name now, I think. Either way, I do hope you enjoy my VERY FIRST SUPERNATURAL FIC. Also, MY VERY FIRST READER INSERT FIC! It's a bunch of firsts for me today so...
> 
> I will accept your comments or criticisms with pride.

It had been maybe six or so months since you joined the team that was known as Sam and Dean Winchester. They found you, thankfully, after you had been attacked by a djinn and were close to death. After keeping tabs on you in the hospital, you begged to join them on whatever road trip is was they were going on. Of course, finding out shortly after you packed your bags and jumped into the back of the Impala, you discovered it wasn’t just a road trip. They had jobs to do, people to save, a destiny to fulfill. And, while it was crazy and scary at first, it had gotten to the point where you wore a knife in your boots, knew how to kill a werewolf and had adorned an anti-possession tattoo. You were, as officially as you could get, a hunter. And the best thing that had ever happened to the boys.

                Sam sat at the table in the bunker, clicking away at the computer, researching for something, anything to get him out of the house. Dean was out in the garage, working on Baby and you, well, you had become the maid when you guys were “home”. The boys knew how to do laundry, that was a must, but it seemed like they missed having a woman’s touch to things. So, you kept up with the laundry, folding it neatly and putting it away when it was finished. You and Dean split who did dishes, depending on who cooked, and it was a generally nice domestic life. Well, as domestic as it could get being surrounded by millions of books on lore and other things regarding the Men of Letters.

                Putting the last bit of laundry away, you were walking down the hall, back to the laundry room when a greasy Dean stopped in front of you. You had to stop, swallow and take a deep breath before you were able to speak.

                “Cat got your tongue, gorgeous?” Dean winked before stepping around you and into the bathroom, shutting the door. Closing your eyes and counting to ten, you managed to calm your heart down enough to stumble back into the kitchen before turning into the dining room.

                “Find anything interesting, Sam?” You ask, watching the youngest Winchester’s brow furrow.

                “A couple of things,” He sighed, scratching his forehead for a moment. “Mostly stuff that the local hunters can handle. But I am itching to get out of here.”

                “Go to a bar.” You suggest. He huffed a small laugh.

                “Right. Me. A bar?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you. Pursing your lips, you put the basket down on the kitchen table before walking over to Sam and wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders.

                “Sam, my dear, Sam.” You sighed as you kissed the top of his head. “Get the hell out of this place before you drive me nuts, yeah?” You asked, standing up straight and patting him on the shoulders. After a few turns and nods of his head, Sam decided to take your advice and at least go _somewhere_. He had been crazy since his last run in with Lucifer and…you needed time to breathe.

                You were just starting dinner when you finally heard the shower turn off. Dean came into the kitchen, his bare feet padding against the linoleum. Breaking up the ground beef in the pan, Dean took a deep breath behind you, smelling the herbs in the air.

                “Mamma’s famous lasagna?” He asked, and you heard the rattle of two beer bottles being taken out and placed on the counter. He twisted them open before reaching around your shoulders and handing you one before grabbing a small piece of cooked meat out of the pan. He popped it in his mouth and was already making his way to his bedroom to get dressed before you could protest. You had just enough time to assemble the lasagna before he came back, wearing those damned low-cut jeans…and ONLY those damned low cut jeans. He grabbed his beer off the table before heading back into the living area of the bunker and turning on the T.V.

                Keeping your distance, you sat in the chair at the end of the couch, making sure to keep space between you and Dean. The last thing you needed was for Dean to hear your heartbeat or see the pink flush rush to your cheeks every time you managed to get another centimeter closer to him. Of course, being the type of person that he is, Dean saw the elephant in the room before you managed to squirm under his green-eyed gaze.

                “What’s up, sweetheart?” Dean asked, his voice turning tender. “You’ve been a fidgety mess since we got done messing with that djinn back in South Carolina….” Dean’s tone wondered off. You swallowed and sighed, watching as Dean sat a little straighter.

                “That son of a bitch didn’t get to you, did he?” His shoulder’s rolled at the thought of something touching you, _harming_ you.

                “I wouldn’t say he _got_ to me, Dean.” You clarified. “I just…started thinking a little differently after seeing those girls tied up…” You trailed off, and thankfully had to get up and check on dinner before Dean could say anything back to you. Thankfully, it was done and ready to be served. You called Dean back into the kitchen and started plating up the food.

                Eating with Dean was always…interesting. He had a tendency to be very _vocal_ about his appreciation of your cooking. This time, every time he took a bite, he groaned, low and in the back of his throat. You choked twice before you took a sip of water and let yourself calm down. Of course, Dean was observant…ever since you told him about that damn djinn and the way looking at all of those girls made you feel. Every little flinch or cough made him stop what he was doing and watch you. Of course, you would advert your eyes or think of some way to change the subject. It worked, really well, through dinner and the rest of the evening.

                Sam came home, drunk, and proceeded to his room without so much as a word. It was funny, you thought, watching Dean get up and check on him until his barreling snores rumbled through the bunker. Dean turned in shortly after he made sure Sam was asleep and not dead.

 

                Once you made it to your room, you pressed your forehead against the door a couple of times before turning, thankful that your room was the farthest down the hall. Turning your music on, soft and slow, you started swaying, thinking…dreaming…. Losing yourself in your own touch, you knew who you wanted behind you, swaying with you, slowly taking off layer after layer before laying you down on your bed and taking you, kissing you, marking you. When you opened your eyes and saw only your bed, you had to choke back a sob. He would never feel the same. He was a hunter; he had to keep himself and his brother safe. For all you knew, you were the extra baggage that he didn’t want. The thoughts caused tears to rush down your face, and before you knew it, you were on your bed, hugging your pillow with all your strength.

                “Sweetheart?” Dean asked, never really using your name unless he absolutely have to. “I was just getting a glass of water before bed…you doing okay in there?”

                “ ‘m fine, Dean.” You sniffed.

                “Don’t lie to me, [y/n].” His tone was firm, but when he turned the knob to your door and opened it slightly, his green eyes held nothing but concern. Hearing your sniffles and seeing your tears had turned something in him, and he…he needed to know that you were alright. He invited himself into your room, but you didn’t really mind. He stood at the foot of your bed, watching you as you clung onto the pillow.

                The song changed, then, and as soon as you heard the opening chords, you wanted to throw your pillow across the room and throw Dean out and break things. You were sitting up to start doing just that when he held his hand out, palm facing you, telling you to stop. You watched as green eyes scanned your body, your face, asking….wanting. Blinking, you nodded, and watched as Dean put on knee on the bed, the weight shifting under you.

                “I am sorry for not being there for you,” He said, sitting on said knee and not moving until you told him too. “I am sorry that damn djinn got to you and you had to feel things that…” Shaking his head, Dean sighed and looked towards the floor.

                “I know they’re not real, Dean.” You clarified. “I’ve handled a djinn before.”

                “That’s the thing, sweetheart, some of those feelings _are_ real.”

                “But what’s the point of realizing what feelings are and aren’t real if there is no- “But you stopped short, not wanting to push yourself any further.

                “No what?”

                “No one who returns those feelings, Dean!” Your voice raised a little. “I sit here, every single day and I watch you and I can’t help but lose my damn mind. And then that damned djinn…. maybe he did get to me a little. I saw you…and me, Dean.” You stumbled over your words, watching as he watched you.

                “You saw you and me what?”

                “We were together, you dumbass!” The tears had started again, and you couldn’t help them this time. “We were together, and Sam had Jess and everything was…” You stopped. “It was so damn perfect.” You swallowed down your gasps as the tears came harder. When Dean didn’t say anything, you moved to get off the bed and open the door. Catching your wrist, Dean held your arm firm, but loose enough so that, if you wanted to go, you could.

                Standing, he towered over your five foot three frame. Cupping your face slightly, he watched you.

                “I can’t promise forever, sweetheart.” He whispered, his eyes darting between yours. “But I can promise for now.” He leaned down and tilted his head, his lips barely brushing against yours.


End file.
